Folding Cranes
by plotbunnytohma
Summary: [WIP][AU] World War III has broken out. Caught in the midst of it are Hatori, an overworked doctor, Shigure, an out of work journalist, Yuki, an invalid at Hatori’s hospital, and Tohru, the mysterious patient of 636.
1. Prologue: Scars

_DISCLAIMER__: We claim no ownership of _Fruits Basket.

* * *

**_A Box of Paper Cranes  
_****_Prologue: _**_Scars  
_**August 20—**

**-**

**-**

_Korean Hospital  
_He woke up.

Emerging from the darkness and being thrust into the light—yes. That was waking up, wasn't it, even though everything was terribly foggy with sleep.

So Hatori just waited for the fog to completely dissipate from the edges of his vision. He knew what he'd seen when it did (the bottom of his roommate's bunk bed), so it wasn't really a matter of orienting himself. It was a matter of needing to _see_ before he ran around half blind with sleep and banged into the side of the sink. So he waited. And he waited.

The fog receded from his field of vision only a little, and only in one eye. The fact that it wasn't his roommate's bunk bed above him didn't really register because the other… When he closed his other eye but kept this one open, it was if he was looking up at a ceiling of white and gray through a slab of very dark, distorted glass smudged with dozens of fingerprints.

Trying his hardest not to panic, Hatori reached up to the eye to physically wipe away the fog, only to encounter something that caused his fingers to freeze.

Then they began to move again, as though to smooth down the white gauze that covered his eye.

And he remembered.

--

_Newspaper __Office__ Building, Tokyo  
_"Sohma-_san! _Stop making me blush." The copy girl giggled behind her hand at Shigure's good-natured flirting before excusing herself and scampering away to run some errand or other. Shigure looked on after her, a smirk pressing at the edges of his mouth.

_Talk about nice— _

"SOHMAAAA!" something shrilled. Shigure sat up in his chair and swiveled around to encounter none other than his editor looming over him in a state of rage and—actually—panic.

"Ah, Micchan! Pleasant d—"

"Don't 'Ah, Micchan' me! _Where's the article?"_

"Was that due today?"

The newspaper editor nearly broke out in tears.

"WHEN DID YOU THINK IT WAS DUE?"

Shigure pretended to contemplate this.

"Don't answer. Please don't answer. _Why_ haven't I fired you yet? I have all the reason to, and the only ones who would complain are the readers and the copy girls, so _why haven't I fired you yet?_" she muttered aloud, panic edging at the utter misery.

Shigure didn't have to contemplate _this_, and immediately responded, "Because I'm good looking, of cour—"

The man didn't get to finish as an ear-shattering blast exploded from somewhere above them, and the entire building shook violently. Shigure shoved the editor down beneath him, a reflex that he'd developed over the past year.

Being one of the first drafted into the army does things to people.

"What was that?" Kei asked, already in a panic as she peered up past Shigure and at the ceiling. Pieces of plaster shook loose and dusted them all in white.

It took Shigure less than a second to figure it out—he _knew_ what this was, had experienced it several times last year, had helped _cause_ something like it last year.

"Sohma," Kei shrilled. "What. Was. That."

"Bomb," he replied. "Probably. Well, get running, Micchan. Better safe than sorry. Falling ceiling can't be too safe, can it?"

The editor shrieked unintelligibly.

--

_Sohma Estate, Kyoto  
_"Kyou! Wa—"

"Shut up, Kagura!"

The girl's black eyes grew wide and she stalked towards the young man, grabbing his collar. Her hand was flying before he had a chance to wrench himself out of her grasp.

There was a resounding _smack_.

"Kyou, you _jerk!_ Don't you get it? Haa-san almost _died_ in Korea and now you're—"

"Don't talk to me about him!" he shouted, eyes shut tightly as he awaited another stinging slap. "Who cares what—"

"Kagura, let go of Kyou, please. And keep your voice down, Kotarou-kun might wake up," Kazuma commanded, his voice soft. The other two turned guiltily to face their sitting master. "Kyou, come here. Let me see."

The boy quickly shrugged away from Kagura to kneel before Kazuma as he began to examine the reddening area with gentle fingertips.

"Kagura, please get some ice. It might begin to swell up."

Kagura made a noise but still hurried out of the room and into the kitchen.

"Kyou…this isn't your choice, is it?" Kazuma whispered urgently, still holding his face. He didn't answer. "Is it?"

"No," he finally said, averting his eyes. Kazuma smiled, sadly and softly before he ran a hand through the boy's red hair.

"You might die, Kyou," the dojo master said seriously. "You might die in Korea, and that's probably what Akito wants."

They heard Kagura's footsteps as she hurried back.

"But…You'll survive, I think," Kazuma whispered as Kagura slid open the door. "You'll survive."

--

_Tokyo  
_"Oh, you'll see! I'll be this big-shot war hero for you by the time I come back!" Kyoko told her, laughing.

"_Please_ don't say that," the girl murmured, a nervous (yet oddly brilliant) smile in place upon her lips. "I just want you to be careful. Be careful, okay?" She reached up and straightened her collar.

"I know, darling. I'll miss you," Kyoko said, smiling a lopsided little smile. Tohru returned it.

"I'll miss you, too."

"And you be careful too, okay, Tohru? They tell you to get out of Tokyo, get out. I'll find you later on, all right?"

"Okay," she agreed. She nodded at her.

And Kyoko, after planting a kiss on her daughter's forehead, straightened up and turned to go, peering over her shoulder and waving a good-bye to Tohru even as she climbed into the back seat of the taxi where two of her buddies—protective Junichiro and handsome Yukihiro—were already situated, their heavy duffel bags weighing on their knees.

_Please, God, protect her. Please, God, if you exist, protect my mother._

The door of the taxi slammed shut and Kyoko watched Tohru as the distance between them grew.

Tohru waited until the taxi had turned a corner before she collapsed onto the pavement.

--

_Sohma Dojo, Kyoto  
_Yuki coughed.

The room was hot and he was hot and a little dizzy. He really didn't understand why the dojo was the only room on the Estate where there was no fan—the heat today was utterly ridiculous.

Hatsuharu watched him intently, not taking his eyes off the other boy even as he wiped his dripping forehead with his sleeve.

They were both completely silent then, and watched each other with narrowed, hawk-like eyes.

Haru struck out at his opponent quickly, but Yuki blocked it with his arm and kicked out, catching the other boy in the stomach.

And so the dance began and progressed, a battle between two of the most excellent students in the dojo. It went on and on until they were slick with perspiration and the room was even stuffier and hotter and Yuki could barely breathe.

The two of them leapt back for a moment, as if by a silent sign.

Yuki coughed again and struggled to regain his breath.

He couldn't.

His asthma wasn't this bad—it just wasn't. Something was wrong. He could feel it, could feel something else tightening its grip on his lungs, his chest, his throat.

Eyes wide, he began to gasp for air but found none because his throat was closing up, closing up, closing up. Before he knew it, he was doubled over his knees and Haru—panicking—was above him, the last thing he saw before he blacked out.

--

--

--

_Notes_

Hi, there. It's us, _plotbunnytohma_. Just a few preliminary notes regarding the chemical composition of our baby, **_Folding Cranes_**. :_laugh_: But if we get reviews regarding anything here, we're not answering them, so read carefully.

**Universe** – Alternate, future. **Setting** – Future, Japan. Certain flashbacks may or may not be set in Korea. The city called _New Tokyo_ will be explained in future chapters. The circumstances of the war may be explained. Other details with regard to setting are below the title of each chapter. **Pairings** – Undisclosed. If you like the story, read it. You just might like the outcome. **Intentions** – We're dedicated to finishing it. Cross out hearts. **Updates** – Slow and/or sporadic. We've finished up to chapter four at the moment, but there's a long way to go. Begging/threatening gets you nowhere. **Warnings** – Some possible bloodshed. Any other warnings will come when the chapter comes.

And, er, now that we've scared you off, would you please, please review? Or, if necessary, rant, or flame, or critique. Thank you!

_--_

_Notes: 4/15/06_

Due to the fact that this is doubling as an original work of fiction, our editor was like, _Fix this, and this, and this, and what about him? And what the FUCK were you doing HERE?_ And so on and so forth. So we decided to fix this, too, because we're just cool like that.

And, for the record, we're not really sure where the Sohma estate is, but Kyoto sounded nice, so...

So. Yes. Revised. Enjoy.


	2. Chapter One: Yuki

_DISCLAIMER: We claim no ownership of_ Fruits Basket.

* * *

_PART ONE: broken world _

_**Chapter One: Yuki**  
__September  
__Thirteen Months Later  
__New Tokyo General Hospital  
__New Tokyo, Japan_

--

--

"What do we have today, Noriko?"

"Doctor! You're finally here! Traffic was terrible, wasn't it? Anyway. The patient in room 429—"

"Katsumoto Ayaka-san?"

"Yes. She went into a fit—"

"Another one? How long ago?"

"Just now."

_As long as she doesn't go comatose, it's fine._

Doctor Sohma Hatori, age 27, ran down the corridor with his nurse close on his heels.

--

The city of New Tokyo sat at the edge of the Old Tokyo ruins, which were now cleared up and bare of all the loose wreckage that it had sustained less than a year before. The first time Tokyo had been bombed, it seemed, it had gotten off easy; the second time wrought absolute destruction. Yes, the old city, once bright with industry and life, had become a ghost town of shattered buildings and paved roads and one of the sole surviving artifacts of better times: the Tokyo Tower, bruised and battered but miraculously spared.

While otaku were reminded strongly of _Tokyo Babylon _and _X/1999_, old CLAMP classics from the 1990's and early 2000's (an insane amount of American 30- and 40-somethings had been to see it in the past year), and very nearly worshipped the old building, other, more rational people decided that this was a sign—that Japan's enemies spared what they wished and they destroyed what they wished; and they had the precision and power to destroy the world, if that was what suited their fancy. More than one strategist had the sneaking suspicion that the Allied nations were being played with.

So more than half the city and a fourth of its population had been completely demolished in the blasts; countless bodies had never been recovered from the city's grave. Between that and the first bombing, it was no wonder that the city of New Tokyo was substantially less populated than its predecessor. It was growing, however, and experts speculated that once the war—that was, the War of Terror, not to be mistaken with the Americans' War _On_ Terror begun almost two decades earlier and never quite finished—was over, then the population of New Tokyo would grow to the size of the original Tokyo's.

Or so they said.

In any case: almost a quarter of the population of New Tokyo lived with the side effect of the first Tokyo bombing, when six weapons of biological warfare were set off in strategic points of the city, releasing a virus into the air. It was, of course, contained within the first 48 hours of the release, but by then it had done its work. Three-quarters of the city's daytime population was infected by that time, and a third of that number had died on first contact with the disease. The main problem with the disease was that doctors were only half-sure of how the whole system worked—the utter _randomness_ of the manufactured disease totally baffled doctors and scientists and pharmacists. The leading theory was that several different diseases had been produced and combined into one and then made into an airborne virus that—that—well, that part hadn't been completely figured out yet, but immunologists believed that they were on the right track.

Still, there was enough information available that medicine was on the market: medicine which stabilized the patient for the meanwhile. It slowed the eventual outcome of the Tokyo Virus, because despite which of the particular symptoms a patient had, they all deteriorated into a comatose state before their hearts just… stopped.

And that was the most that doctors could do. Stabilize them and keep them safe, for the moment.

In New Tokyo, the main research center for the Virus lay on the outskirts of the city, with a nice view of the haunted old city. Some said that being so close to a site of disaster—even if it was slowly rebuilding—bled into the environment and cursed the place from the start. And though the staff vehemently disagreed with that observation, they could not deny that the research institute was a place that ran especially high with frustration and disappointment. It was a terrible atmosphere to work in.

Very few of the victims of the Virus were kept at the Institute, of course. Most were kept either in the new specialty houses headed by one medical society or another, and some lived with relatives. But a good amount of them had been taken into the New Tokyo General Hospital almost immediately after it had been finished.

The Hospital was, well, an ordinary hospital building, with scrubbed down floors and the usual bare rooms and stuffed waiting rooms. But there was one very distinctive difference from the other hospitals of the time: It relied very little on the newest technology, mainly because the architects realized that if some terrorist miraculously figured out how to hack into the main system, then, well… So it was a throwback to older hospitals, with doctors who carried clipboards and files that they wrote on with pencils and pens rather than plasmascreen boards that they dictated things to. Furthermore, because they didn't have any plasmascreens to keep appointments and remind them of various engagements, they were assigned nurses who kept them on track, particularly to those new doctors whose heads spun with the lack of technology. Needless to say, it was alarming to be called to a particular sector by a booming voice on a public address system, especially after one had been used to using StickyChip technology and to merely having a voice projected directly into your head whenever necessary.

And there was another strange thing about the New Tokyo hospital, which was that the greatest percentage of army doctors was drafted from there, which left the hospital with a constantly low number of specialists in each department. Consequently, there were hardly any real "specialists" left. The philosophy had merely become, _if you can do this, do it. Otherwise, call someone else._

Which made the hospital seem like a very free place, particularly on the days when the staff gathered together in the cafeteria and traded patient files with one another the way that teenage girls nowadays traded nanophone skins.

So overall, New Tokyo General doctors were thought to be terribly eccentric, technologically clueless, and grim, all of which was completely unfounded.

Well, for the most part.

--

Everyone knew that the war was not a pretty one. It was quite ugly, as a matter of fact. To most people, though, the how and why of it was fuzzy, gray, and hard to comprehend as few newspapers were still being run and distributed. More than one of the printing facilities in New Tokyo had been destroyed in the bombings that had occurred soon after the publications had gotten up and running once more. In fact, all of the major ones were gone, and the only newspapers left were the small independent ones that no one had really liked in the first place.

Hatori understood the politics of the situation—the how and the why—but pondering it was altogether too much trouble. It meant a headache and more, and he was not going to tolerate a headache by any means. He was already tired and overworked and beyond hungry, but his hour-long break was just too short to get food _and_ take a much-deserved nap.

Hatori opted for a nap in the doctors' lounge.

"Good afternoon, Sohma-sensei!" one of the nurses in the staff room—Jeanette Briand, a French immigrant nurse in her 30s—called out, and whispered something to her companion—Yura? Yuka. Ooishi Yuka.

Hatori nodded in response, brushing dark bangs of hair out of his bad eye before letting it fall back into place almost self-consciously. Conceited as it made him feel to admit, he'd used to love his eyes—they were different, an olive green, a result of his foreign great-grandmother's genes. But now his right was crossed by scars and very nearly blind. Hardly anything to be proud of. Hardly anything to flaunt.

He adjusted his glasses.

Inwardly, he sighed. There were too many people around, and he was a light sleeper.

Like he could have gotten a moment's worth of sleep in here in the first place. Was he really so exhausted as to think that one colleague or another _wouldn't_ go out of their way to prod him awake the moment he closed his eyes? This hospital was wired with pure energy. The atmosphere practically buzzed with it.

"Have you heard about the patient in room 636, doctor?" Jeanette asked suddenly. "Yuka-chan and I were just discussing her."

He suddenly regretted his choice to come into the lounge. Hatori shook his head in response to the question. The hospital had run rampant with rumors about various patients in the last few months, and Jeanette was known to be one of the most avid of the gossipers.

Hatori didn't listen to a word of the tales and tried his hardest to avoid her. A single action could spur an entire chain of rumors that would utterly ruin his reputation.

"No. I don't have any patients in 636. Why?"

"She's in the Sasaki Sadako wing, you know. And, well, it's really ir—"

Something niggled at the back of Hatori's mind. Something important. Something that had to do with the Sasaki Sadako wing. Something that had to do with some_one_ in the Sasaki Sadako wing.

"Damn," Hatori muttered. The two nurses stopped chattering and looked at him in question.

"Please excuse me. I'm late for a prior engagement," he explained hurriedly, and ran out into the hall.

"…'Prior engagement'?" Yuka repeated. "What a lame excuse…"

Jeanette shrugged, eyes gleaming.

But this would make very, very good gossip.

--

_Once a week. That's all he asked, that's all I promised. Once a week. How could I have forgotten? _

Hatori slowed to a trot upon reaching the Sasaki Sadako wing, finally halting in the doorway of room 634.

"You're late, Hatori," a softly lilting, somewhat bored voice reprimanded him.

"I forgot," was his blunt response as he straightened his white jacket and moved closer to the figure sitting in the bed by the window.

"That's so cold. But…" The figure turned its head. "…I suppose I forgive you."

Sohma Yuki smiled wanly, his head tilting to the side as he surveyed Hatori, who now sat (rather uncomfortably, it was noted) in one of the bedside chairs.

"How terribly kind of you," the doctor remarked.

--

Sohma Yuki was (even at age 16, when by all rights he should have been in the middle of maturing into a handsome young man) as pretty as a girl, with oddly grayish hair (a result of the medicine that combated the Virus) that hung on the long side, and wonderfully mysterious black eyes. And he resented his good looks, though probably not as much as he resented other things—namely, a good number of the members of his family and the illness that plagued him and the ceiling of the hospital room where he had been kept for close to a year now.

Hatori, his cousin, was one of the only Sohmas who came to visit their favorite son—was one of the only ones Yuki would permit to come visit him, in all honesty.

Part of it was the fact that Hatori worked in the hospital and their meeting every so often was inevitable. There was also the fact that spending time in one room with little to no contact with the outside world was completely and totally boring. Hatori's visits, at least, were a small break from the awful routine that the 16-year-old had gotten used to in the past year. And besides, Yuki and Hatori were… similar. Almost.

But maybe Hatori was fishing for reasons for Yuki's terribly capricious behavior.

Yuki's room was absolutely the same as any other room in the hospital. The walls were white, and the ceiling was white, and the floor was white. There was a window that faced out at the bright city that obscured the sky, and two cushy chairs sat facing each other beside it. Tucked in one corner of the room was a bathroom, and close by the bed was a wheelchair that Yuki used when, if ever, he wanted to leave his room.

Not, of course, that that was very often. Roaming around a bland hospital that was a blast from decades past was just something that _no one _actually _wanted_ to do.

"How are you feeling today?" Hatori asked, his eyes boring into his junior.

"All right, I suppose. I've been breathing better now that summer is almost over." Yuki looked out the window once more.

"Is that so?"

"Yes."

"Then it probably means you can be released soon. I'll check with your doctor. Who—"

"Arima-sensei," Yuki supplied, subdued, as he referred to one of the other Tokyo Virus doctors—Arima Koki, a man as tall as Hatori, with sharp brown eyes that belied his calm, easygoing temperament.

He was the best friend of perhaps the silliest, worst-tempered doctor in the entire hospital.

"Hatori?"

"What is it?"

Yuki was silent for a moment, lips set in a line.

"Where do I go after this?"

Meaning, of course, _I'm not going home. I'm not going home to _them_ and you can't make me. _

The doctor absolutely understood.

But Hatori said nothing for a few long moments before rising, glancing at his watch, and running his fingers through his hair.

"Your brother, Ayame—" he began at last, only to be interrupted by a vehement:

"No!"

"Yuki—"

"No, Hatori. That man—"

"That man is your brother," Hatori asserted firmly. "He is the only immediate family you have left in Japan, Yuki. When your parents left, they transferred you to his care. Legally, _he _is your guardian—although, admittedly, a very negligent one—and, as such, is the only one who can decide what to do with you."

"Some guardian."

Yuki stared out the window defiantly and the doctor knew he was fighting a losing battle. He sighed and adjusted his glasses on the bridge of his nose.

"Then if you are so averse to staying with your brother, go stay with Shigure. I know he irritates you—"

"He irritates everyone."

"—but he bought a house here in New Tokyo about a week ago. _A__way_ from the Sohma estate. I'm sure he would welcome you back into his home."

Yuki turned to regard the doctor curiously.

"Do you really think so?"

Hatori shrugged.

"Probably. Shall I call him tonight?"

Yuki was the one to shrug now.

"If that's what you want," he said, and feigned indifference. Badly.

"Understand, Yuki. I would take you in, but I'm at the hospital most of the time—as you well know. And you're probably sick of me by now."

"Somewhat, if you really want the truth."

"Then—"

"I get it, Hatori. Just leave."

Hatori watched Yuki for a moment longer before he gave his junior a nod and a wave of his fingers. Then he turned on his heel and walked out the door.

--

Dead tired though he was, at the end of the day, Hatori got out his address book and nanophone and sat on the couch in his tiny apartment to rifle through the pages of the half-blank, old-fashioned book. Upon finding the number he needed, he rehearsed the lines of his script in his head for another moment before he spoke the number into the receiver.

The other end rang only twice before someone picked up.

_"HAA- SAN? Does my caller ID deceive me!" _

"Shigure—"

_"Haa-san! It's been such a long time! You haven't called me in about a year! To what do I owe the pleasure?" _

"Shigure—"

_"Oh, do say it again, Hatori! I love the way you say my na—" _

"**Shigure**. Enough."

_"…You're no fun, Haa-san." _

Hatori could swear he heard Shigure's pout even over the phone.

He sighed.

"I was talking to Ayame the other day. You bought a house here in New Tokyo?"

_"Ah, yes. So you keep in contact with Aaya but not me? I'm hurt." _

"Don't be."

_"How could I not, Haa-san, when I know you and Ayame are probably doing unspeakable things involving frui—" _

Hatori hung up. Not ten seconds passed before the nanophone began to chirp, and he picked it up without a moment's hesitation, though he knew perfectly well that his cousin would be on the other end.

_"You hung up on me, Haa-saaa—" _

"Stop. Now. I'm trying to be serious with you, Shigure," the doctor interrupted. A whining Shigure was something that he really didn't need.

It was his cousin's turn to sigh.

_"I know. So. What's the problem? I know you didn't just call to confirm the purchase of my latest residence." _

"Actually, I did. I was wondering if it would be big enough that Yuki could move in with you."

_"…Yuki?"_ Shigure murmured. He certainly hadn't been expecting to hear that name again, at least not for a long while.

"Yes. He won't go back to the Sohma Estate and he won't hear of going to live with Ayame."

_"Poor Aaya. But—he's better now? Yuki-kun, I mean." _

"Relatively so. He's well enough to want to go outside and walk on his own, at least. And I think… I think that even if he wasn't, he'd be better off away from the hospital. He needs human contact aside from nurses and doctors and he's sick of me already. I know that once Kyou comes home, the head of our family—"

_"Akito,"_ Shigure prompted. _"Surely you remember his na—" _

"The head of our family will probably send Kyou to you once he comes home, but… Even so, I think that Yuki would be happier and better off under your care."

_"…" _

"Shocking, isn't it?"

_"Unbelievably so." _

Hatori took in a deep breath.

"Perhaps you should come and see him one day this week. Are you still at the estate or have you already moved?"

_"I'm in New Tokyo." _

"I assume you have no idea where the hospital is?"

_"Correct as always, Hatori!" _

"Then I'll pick you up on Thursday morning. What's the address?"

_"…Good question. Would you mind holding on for a moment?" _

"…You're going to look for some mail, aren't you, Shigure?"

Shigure's embarrassed laughter filtered through to the other end as the irresponsible man set the phone down.

_"Dammit, I know I left that envelope somewhere… Now, if I was an envelope, where would I be…?" _

_Idiot_.

--

--

_Notes_

So. First real chapter of the fic and already there's some semblance of action.

What does Yuki have? Why is he in the hospital? Is he really getting better? Hm. We could tell you, but then there goes a fourth of the plot, darlings.

Oh! And, if you didn't know it, we revised the first chapter. So anyone who read it previously and there were only three parts to it (Hatori-Tohru-Yuki), you may want to go back because we added Shigure's part. It isn't mind-shatteringly important, but if you intend to follow and understand Shigure's fourth of the plot, it'll help. Shigure's a darling.

This wasn't going to be up so soon, but fluorescent took a day off from work to recuperate from slight sunburn and killed feet, so we've completely finished chapter four and started chapter five. Yessss.

So, please review, or rant, or something.

Oh, and **thank you**-s go out to the following reviewers: **Peeka-chan, october darkness, Lucinda the Maid, **and **Placid Snowflake. **Thanks for the encouragement, the faith in our unwavering dedication to this story, and the interest. They are deeply appreciated.

--

_4/15/06_

Ah... MUCHLY revised. Hope you all enjoyed!


	3. Chapter Two: Shigure

_DISCLAIMER: We claim no ownership of _Fruits Basket.

**_

* * *

_**

_**Chapter Two**: Shigure  
__September  
__Thursday  
__New Tokyo, Japan_

_--_

Hatori glanced at his watch again and wondered for the thirty-fifth time—when was Shigure (_that IDIOT!_) going to come downstairs? He'd been waiting…

"Haa-san!"

The doctor turned and watched as his younger cousin finally dashed down the front steps of his new house two at a time.

"Shigure."

Shigure hadn't changed very much at all in the year and a half they had been apart—he still wore his hair in a dark mop of black strands falling all over, and his brown eyes still twinkled with mischief and joviality and something else that told the world he was smarter than one's average fop. The sleeves of his white dress shirt had been rolled up sloppily below his elbows and his tie was loose. His black slacks were nicely pressed, though, and his shoes were in better condition than Hatori's.

_He probably just bought them_, Hatori's mind supplied, an oddly jealous edge hinting at the whispery words. _Shigure always did have connections_.

He shook the thoughts away.

Shigure's house was quite big by Japanese standards—only natural, considering how fond he was of flaunting their family's wealth. He'd bought up the entire little three-family apartment building, which was something that was _utterly_ ridiculous, considering that it was only Shigure and sometimes his niece, if her parents decided to disappear off of the face of the earth again. What did the neighbors think? And who was paying for the house anyway, Shigure or… Or was it Kaname, one of the richest men alive, one of the best businessmen out there, the head of the Sohma family? That certainly wouldn't surprise Hatori. Shigure was the beloved, after all… The only one of the inner circle who hadn't run away from home at the first available opportunity.

"Hurry up and get into the car, Shigure. I'm already ten minutes behind schedule." And that was even taking into account Shigure's tendency to be vague.

"So… You got lost, didn't you, Haa-san?" Shigure asked shiftily over the top of the doctor's car as he opened the door.

"Yes," was the clipped reply as Hatori turned the key in the ignition. "Your directions were terrible. 'Turn right at the tree.' Shigure, have you _any_ idea how many trees I turned right at?"

--

"So, Hatori—"

"Yes, Shigure?"

"When is your lunch break?"

"…Why do you want to know?"

Shigure feigned an innocent expression.

"Well, maybe you could come and visit me and Yuki, you know, since it'll probably get boring after a while and we won't have anything to talk to each other about and then Yuki might not want to st—"

"Fine, fine. I take it you're staying the whole day, then?"

Shigure nodded slowly.

"I suppose. I mean, I don't really have anything else to do at home other than listen to depressing war news and such…"

_Get a job, then, _Hatori wanted to say, but knew from experience that such a suggestion would amount to nothing other than a laugh which, coming from his _most_ darling cousin, clearly meant _I-do-not-want-to-talk-about-that-so-case-closed-okay? _

So neither man said a thing, and silence set in. Not that it was an awkward silence, of course. Hatori and Shigure had grown up together, and a year and a half apart was hardly anything to get awkward over. And besides, it wasn't as though Hatori was the most social person in the world, and Shigure knew it. Still…

"Shigure… Why did you come to New Tokyo?" was Hatori's smooth question at last.

Shigure seemed to contemplate that for a moment.

"I could ask you the same question, Hatori. But… it's a secret." Shigure put his index finger to his smiling lips. "After all, I can't have you knowing _all_ my little secrets, Haa-san!"

"You're such a child. How old are you? Six or twenty-six?"

--

"What do we have today, Noriko?" Hatori asked as soon as he got into the hospital, shrugging on his white jacket and striding out of the locker room with Shigure in tow.

"Doctor! The patient in room 429—"

"Ayaka-san? What now?"

"She fell into a coma not too long ago, sir."

_Damn. Damn, damn, damn. _

"Shigure," Hatori began, "Yuki is in room 634. Just look around for the Sasaki Sadako wing."

"What?"

"Sasaki Sadako wing!" Hatori called over his shoulder.

"The girl with the cranes?" the other man asked, but there was no reply, and Shigure was left to watch as his cousin ran down the hall with his nurse quick on his heels. He sighed resignedly.

"…Ah, _sumimasen_, miss," he asked the first (very cute) nurse that passed by, "but would you by any chance know where the Sasaki Sadako wing is located?"

--

Yuki blinked at the man standing in the doorway of his room.

"Shigu…re?"

"Hello, Yuki-kun. How are you this fine morn? Any sponge baths lately?"

"What are you _doing_ here? Weren't you still at the estate?"

Shigure smiled graciously, quite obviously pleased with himself.

"Se-cr-et!"

_"SHIGURE—!" _

"Hush, now, Yuki, I have a feeling that yelling at me isn't good for you. Now. Since, as you know, I have bought myself a fine new house smack-dab in the middle of New Tokyo and since you, according to the never-wrong Haa-san, are getting better with each passing day, I was contemplating the possibility of current arrangements being swapped around so that you and I could live in my wonderful new residence and lead happy-happy lives amidst this rising utopia that is New Tokyo."

And with that, Shigure scooped Yuki up into his arms and deposited him gently into the wheelchair not too far away from the hospital bed that the boy had once been lying in.

"Shigure, have you been smoking again?" the boy asked uncertainly.

"Yes. But fear not, dearest cousin, it wasn't the cheap stuff this time. It was the really cheap stuff. Let us depart now and find… somewhere better than this place, at least. Such ugly walls."

Yuki stared at Shigure.

_What have I done? _

--

Hatori wandered down a corridor of the Sasaki Sadako wing, stopping only when he came to room 634, the nameplate outside which read _Sohma Yuki-sama_.

He peered in.

--

_"Shigure—!" –you IDIOT!_

"Oh, dear. Yuki-kun, don't you think that sounded extraordinarily like Haa-san?"

"…Uh…"

The nanophone at Shigure's hip began to vibrate and the man listened quickly to the caller ID before hooking it over his ear and answering it.

"Excuse me for a moment, please," he told the occupants of the room before launching into a gleeful, "Haa-san—!"

_"Yuki. Where did you take him, Shigure?" _

Ooh. Hatori sounded kind of… blank. Which meant that he was probably kind of… mad. To tease him or not to tease him… That was the question… And Shigure was leaning towards—

_"Shigure. Now." _

—Not teasing him! Yes. That had been his plan all along. Yeah. Just because Hatori was sounding dangerous—that had nothing to do with it. Yeah.

"Oh, uh… Pardon me, miss, what room is this?" Shigure asked.

--

On his end, Hatori was burying his head in his hands.

_"Room 636." _

Within moments, Hatori was in the doorway, nanophone still curled around his ear.

"Oh, sorry, sorry, sorry, Haa-san. Were you worried?" Shigure waved his hands in a relatively placating gesture. Hatori sucked in a breath (and with it, many of the admonishments that he had been simply _itching_ to throw at his cousin) and replaced his nanophone in his pocket.

Yuki simply continued with his business.

And the patient in room 636 stared, more frightened of them all than anything else.

"Shigure. Why did you take Yuki out of his room?"

The younger of the two grinned.

" 'Human contact', dear cousin of mine," he confided in a low tone. "It was only next door, you know. And you said it yourself, Yuki-kun doesn't get out that much. So we went walking—well, walking and rolling, anyway—and found Tohru-kun sitting here all alone." Shigure raised his voice. "Tohru-kun isn't a nurse, are you, Tohru-kun?"

"Ah… no?"

And so it was, for the first time, Hatori saw the much-rumored-about patient of room 636.

--

_Notes_

Sohma Yuki-sama: According to the oh-so-wonderful and humorous manga _Gravitation_, hospitals use the '-sama' suffix to refer to which patients reside in which room. So, no, Yuki does not have 'lord' status or anything… JIC you were wondering.

Sasaki Sadako: If you don't already know her story, it might be worth it to read it. While it's not overly important for this fic, it's one of the many things that inspired us into writing _Folding Cranes_; and so, we named the wing that Yuki and Tohru reside in after her. 

First glimpse of Tohru (outside of the prologue, that is…)! Not a very good glimpse, though… More like a foggy impression… or something.

We'll warn you now: Yuki is somewhat hard for us to capture, especially in these early stages. So he'll seem a little like Akito at points, and a little like the regular Yuki, and a little something extra, given the situation. Just a warning.

Sorry for the delay. We don't have a working computer between us, and it wouldn't feel right, trying to post when chapter six hadn't been started. And then RIP got re-addicted to Switchfoot songs and Robin McKinley, and fluorescent got re-addicted to Franz Ferdinand and _The Naming_ and both of us started reading Diana Wynne Jones and nothing we wrote for chapter 5 actually worked with our idea of this fic… What a disaster…

_--/thankyouthankyou/--  
(done by RIP)_

**Lucinda the Maid**: Thanks so much for your wonderful review. One of the reasons why this fic is so fun to write is because most of the characters are shrouded in mystery, even to us. We like to reveal things little by little, both through dialogue and through actions, rather than by stating them outright. Things are so much more fun that way. Ah, yes.fluore-chan is adamant about having perfect spelling and passable grammar, so before posting a chapter, we have to edit it twice each. But it's worth it, I suppose. Anyway, thanks again!

**Placid Snowflake**: Ah... Well, the number 636 is significant to fluore-chan, if to no one else, I'm sorry to tell you. It was the number of the classroom her favorite class (Freshman Composition) was held in this year. :_sheepish grin_: Yes, multiple plots. One for each main character, of course! We _hope_ it'll be interesting! Thanks so much for your review!

**october-darkness**, **Different Child**, **Lil-Kudo**: Thanks so much for reviewing!

**AeiishiAkuma**: Shigure makes me giggle, too. He's very giggle-worthy. And Hatori! We love him ever-so-much.We both hope that we're getting him right because as enjoyable as he is to read, he's ever-so-enjoyable to write, as well. And intrigue is just so fun, isn't it? Thanks so much for reviewing.

**MistressofHeaven**: Hm. We're not sure, actually. Most of them will pop up at one point or other, though. Thanks for your review!

**miss toad**: Ah! Such compliments! I like this alternate universe, too. It's fluore-chan's making, mostly, so I appreciate it just about as much as any outsider to the story. And we're both glad to know that we're getting Shigure right!

Thanks to anyone who read but didn't review. It'd be nice if you reviewed it this time, though... :hinthint: Any critiques are welcome, though fluore-chan's ego is somewhat damaged by flames, even though she doesn't like to admit it. :_grin_:

--

_4/15/06  
_REVISED! Hope you had fun reading!


	4. Chapter Three: Coffee and Cranes

_DISCLAIMER: We claim no ownership of _Fruits Basket.

**_

* * *

_**

_**Chapter Three**: Cranes and Coffee  
__September  
__Thursday  
__New Tokyo General Hospital  
__New Tokyo, Japan_

--

--

Tohru sat on her hospital bed, her eyes darting between the two older men in her room.

"Oh, where are my manners?" Shigure was saying. "Haa-san, this is Honda Tohru-kun. Tohru-kun, this is Sohma Hatori, our elder cousin. Have you seen him around? He's a doctor here."

"Oh. No. It's very nice meeting you, Sohma-sensei," the girl said, smiling and bowing her head politely.

She was an earnest-looking girl with long, straight black hair and unusually bright brown eyes and a smile that was oddly sincere. She couldn't possibly be that old, judging from the structure of her face, which was not yet as angular as a grown woman's but not quite as round as that of one in early adolescence.

Overall, she seemed rather… plain.

"It's nice to meet you as well, Honda-san. I hope my cousins haven't been too much of a bother. Come along now, Shigure, Yuki." Hatori moved towards Yuki's chair.

"Oh, no! They weren't a bother, really!"

"See, Haa-san! Why must you think so negatively of me?" Shigure sniffed in mock offense, drawing nearer to Tohru, almost as though to extract sympathy from her.

"Because you haven't given me reason to think otherwise, Shigure," Hatori replied blandly.

"Aaah! _Haa_-s—"

"Did I do it right, Honda-san?"

Shigure and Hatori turned, the sound of Yuki's quiet inquiry drawing their ears and their eyes to the source.

Between his fingers, Yuki held a small piece of colored orange paper, folded and folded over and over into something that resembled a—

_Crane_, Hatori's mind supplied numbly.

Honda-san reached over and gently took the figure from Yuki's hands, inspecting the figure, with its sloppy folds and bent wings and its too-narrow beak.

"It's perfect, Sohma-kun! But, see, if you do this—" she undid a few folds before refolding them a different way, "—then the beak is easier to fold."

She smiled, displaying the crane in her hands and holding it out to Yuki.

"Your first crane, Sohma-kun. Keep it forever," she whispered, eyes bright.

Yuki took the origami bird from her hands with faintly shaking fingers and peered at it curiously.

And then he gave her a smile—real and warm.

"Oh, my," Shigure murmured quietly to Hatori. "Do you feel Hell freezing over somewhere beneath us?"

Hatori didn't see the smile that was playing so mischievously on Shigure's face and he didn't hear the words that the two invalids were exchanging. His eyes were fixed on the delicate crane between Yuki's fingers.

--

_"Hmm. It's perfect, Hatori-san! But… You shouldn't let the crease go all the way down to the bottom. The beak is too hard to fold that way, see? Like this, Hatori-san!" _

_Fingers, delicate and long, pressed down on the creases newly put into place on the tiny green figure. _

_"Look, here's another paper. Try it again, Hatori-san." _

_A groan, good-natured and teasing even as he took the square from her offering hands… _

_"You know I'm not good at this, Ka—" _

--

"My lunch break is over, I believe." Hatori glanced at his watch. It wasn't.

"Hm. Are you sure you're not just being a killjoy, Haa-san? Do you think he's being a killjoy, Tohru-kun?"

Tohru seemed to panic.

"Eeh? Oh, no! Um—That is—"

"Shigure, stop teasing her," Hatori commanded. Shigure pouted.

"It was a pleasure meeting you, Honda-san. I'll come by later to pick Shigure up, all right, Yuki?"

The boy nodded slowly, not taking his eyes from the blue square between his fragile fingers.

"Good-bye, Hatori…"

--

Later that evening, thankfully, Hatori was not obligated to go on a wild goose chase and instead found Shigure in Yuki's room, watching the boy as he slept curled up in the hospital bed.

"I don't think I've ever seen him so calm… warm," Shigure remarked, his dark eyes meeting Hatori's own.

"Sleep does that to people," was the bland reply. "Ordinary people, anyway. You tend to look more sinister than ever once you're asleep."

Shigure let out a short, quiet laugh.

"You know what I'm talking about, Hatori. With that Tohru-kun. How could you ever forget that smile of his? I think… I think our little Kyou-kun _likes_ her."

"Shigure… For one thing, they met today. And for another—You know as well as I do how things work in our family these days. It would be dangerous for Yuki to form any outside attachments. If Kaname finds out that his favorite…"

The younger man simply leaned back, a quiet smile gracing the corners of his lips.

"I know precisely how dangerous it is, Hatori."

And the doctor knew—felt—the way Shigure's eyes were boring into his face, into his eye, and judging him—judging _his_ inner strength against Yuki's.

Hatori shifted his eyes to the bedside stand that was visible now that Shigure had moved back. And it was… familiar. The way that paper cranes were set neatly around the single picture that stood on the surface, and the way that the bright colors contrasted and seemed to melt together if the colors were similar enough, and the way that the shadows fell into the folds and created new shades of a single color…all of it was familiar.

So familiar it hurt in the deep recesses of Hatori's chest, where he had once believed was a heart, but… he knew better now.

There was nothing.

"Let's go, Shigure," he told his cousin, standing and shrugging on his coat. "It's getting late."

"Hmm," was all that Shigure murmured—a non-committal sound that meant absolutely nothing other than _I heard you_.

He got to his feet languidly.

"And what did you think of Tohru-kun, Haa-san?"

"I don't know. Nothing."

"Is that so?"

Hatori led the way out the door.

"Yes. That's so."

"Oh. I thought she might have reminded you of—"

"She reminded me of no one."

"…I see."

And Shigure suppressed a triumphant smirk. They didn't speak until they were almost at Hatori's car and the younger of the two felt something cold and wet splatter onto his head and seep to his scalp. Shigure blinked and looked up.

Another droplet hit his face, then another one, and another, and another.

"Ne… Haa-san… It's raining," he said.

"What are you waiting for, then? Get in the car," was Hatori's response before he shut his door. Shigure glanced up at the sky again before hurriedly following his cousin's advice.

Then they were driving towards the heart of New Tokyo, where Shigure's house and Hatori's apartment were. Droplets the size of Shigure's pinky nail were spattering down onto the windshield only to be whapped away by the wipers.

"This is quite a summer storm, isn't it?" he asked, nervousness only a quiver in his words.

"…What's your point, Shigure?"

Blue-white-silver lightning bolted from the sky, lighting up the drear of the rain for the merest of moments.

"…A lightning-and-thunder storm, Haa-san."

In his peripheral vision, Hatori watched with masked curiosity as Shigure edged away from the side of the vehicle.

"Oh! And I will be alone in my new h—"

A bashing of thunder interrupted him. Shigure jumped, edged as far away from the window as humanly possible without crawling into his cousin's lap, and clutched at the armrest of his seat nearer to Hatori.

"I thought you outgrew your fear of storms," Hatori stated, his tone only barely hinting at humor. "You seemed fine a year and a half ago."

"Eh… Haa-san. You'd be surprised at what changes within the span of a year and a half."

"Do you still want to go to your house?"

"Er… Not really?"

Hatori sighed inwardly.

"Have you had dinner yet?" he asked blandly. His cousin blinked only once before becoming his usual self.

"Haa-san! Are you offering me food and shelter in my time of need?"

"Yes."

Shigure's eyes shone.

"Dearest cousin, I would hug you were it—"

"—acceptable within this society," Hatori finished. "Shigure. Stop."

The 26-year-old complied.

"…Hey, Haa-san. Maybe we can call Aaya—"

"No."

"But—"

"But he'll fly over." _He'll book the next flight from Granada to New Tokyo._

"Oh. But that's not so bad, is it?"

"He'll try to see Yuki. We can't afford to have him upset." Hatori revised that. "We can't afford to have either of them upset."

And Shigure just leaned back in his seat, frowning and contemplating what Hatori just said.

Then:

"I get the bed!"

"No."

"But I'm the—"

"No."

--

_Early Friday Morning _

The night was quieter than most, after the storm had moved on.

Shigure, at least, was taking advantage of the quiet to sleep quite deeply. Hatori was assured of it when his cousin began to breathe so shallowly that he just barely resisted the urge to go grab his stethoscope and press the cold disk to Shigure's chest and verify that the idiot was still alive.

But then again, Shigure had been loud and cheerful and able to sleep like a log since they were children—all three of them: Shigure, Hatori, and Aaya.

Just like Hatori had been quiet, reliable, responsible, and always taking care of the others—though also a too-light sleeper—ever since they were children.

Finally, resigning himself to a sleepless night, Hatori dragged himself out of the living room, where Shigure had fallen asleep on the couch, and into his tiny bedroom with its very masculine-looking Western bed and its half-empty clothes closet and its sparse amount of photographs.

And Hatori just stood there, in the doorway, his eyes sweeping over the room so familiar and yet so _detached_, like he lived here but, really, he_ didn't. _

Finally, he went over to the bed and, rather than getting into it (why? He was still fully-clothed, after all…), he bent down on his knees and reached under it, groping through the dust and the darkness until his fingers skirted the edge of a cardboard box about the same depth as a shoebox, though it was substantially larger in width and overall area.

Without even bothering to blow or wipe away the layers of dust that had collected on the lid, Hatori opened the box, his fingers creating little imprints as they took away so many months' worth of grime.

A flood of fading colors filled his vision.

And Hatori just sat there, with the box of colored cranes lying on his knees.

--

Shigure woke up early, as he was wont to do, and stumbled from the living room into the bathroom and from the bathroom into the kitchen.

"Hatori?"

The other man glanced up from the morning paper and put down his coffee on the countertop.

"Up early as usual, Shigure." He poured another mug of coffee and handed it to Shigure. "Shall we drive back to your house?"

"Mm. In a moment. Let me savor the coffee."

"Did you sleep well?"

Shigure took a long sip of the coffee and smiled into the swirling liquid within the mug before searching the countertop to see what brand Hatori used.

Something a little more (oh, fine, _waaay_ more) expensive than what Shigure got—it figured. It really did.

"I haven't had real coffee in a long time," he muttered before answering the question with, "Yes. I slept absolutely marvelously. And you?"

Hatori only took a sip of coffee from his already half-empty cup and shrugged.

"Let's go."

--

_Notes  
__By rogueicephoenix_

Does Shigure's fear of storms have any impact on the story? Not in particular. Just character development of a sort.

:sigh: That part about Hatori opening the box of cranes… That's probably my favorite part. Fluorescent's favorite part is yet to come, though…

A word or two about breaks: Two dashes signify a dream or the start of a chapter,one dash signifies a flashback, and anything else is just a representation of a lapse in time and/or place, or else a change in terms of which character is being focused on.

Sorry (AGAIN) for making all of you wait such a horribly long time for us to update this, but fluore-chan and I become sophomores on Thursday (squeee!) and we had to prepare for the big day—back-to-school day, that is. Plus, fluore-chan's feeling kinda sick lately, so... At least we finished chapter six! Really!

All responses are now going to be on a livejournal that we set up. Read them at livejournal(**dot**)com/users/foldingcranes as soon as you review (please review?)!

--

_4/15/06  
_Revised and reposted... Yaaay!


	5. Chapter Four: Didn't Think You'd Forget

_DISCLAIMER: We claim no ownership of _Fruits Basket.

**_

* * *

_**

**_Chapter Four_**_: Didn't Think You'd Forget  
__September__  
Friday  
New Tokyo General Hospital  
New Tokyo, Japan _

_-- _

_-- _

Hatori was doing a wonderful job of not falling asleep.

Really.

Actually, he was practically dead on his feet.

The week had come and gone, and for some odd reason, he'd become worse than usual with regards to his personal health. After three or four days of little to no rest and insufficient nutrition, even the near-constant consumption of coffee and other caffeinated products was beginning to have absolutely no effect.

And that was worrying him. After all, what if he read a chart wrong? What if he read a label wrong? What if he distributed the wrong medicine? Lawsuits for medical malpractice were easily resolved these days, and even if he won the suit (which he wouldn't), his reputation would be forever _demolished_.

Or rather, these possibilities worried that very small portion of his brain which hadn't been put on automatic. Because by now, he was at that stage somewhere before over-exhaustion when everything seemed ridiculously clear and he felt wide-awake even as the heavy chains of tiredness weighed down on his limbs. By the time his break rolled around, though his mind kept going, Hatori's body was begging—positively _begging_—for a respite from life in general. Food, sleep, _anything_…

Food, however, was out of the question. He didn't particularly want to go to the cafeteria (even if the reason was only because more than one of the women on duty always gave him one of those _looks_—one of the ones that he didn't like and that he was sure said that she was going to eat him alive), so that option was discarded. The few food joints within walking distance were also out, as most of them only served greasy American junk that would probably give him a heart attack. That left the vending machines in the corridors, which produced sugary-sweet confections that would keep him going for another hour, but…

Sugar dancing down his veins was _not_ a good idea in the least.

Sleep required a bed, or at least a sofa, but the staff room would be full of happy, gossiping nurses and world-weary doctors who shuffled their imported newspapers and talked about how terrible the war was. He could hardly steal a bed in one of the rooms; the moment he lay down, a nurse would probably bustle into the room and hurriedly explain, _"Ah, pardon me, Sohma-sensei, but we need this room…" _

So, for the third time that week, Hatori decided to visit Yuki. And, for the second time that week, Yuki was not in his room.

Hatori breathed in. Deeply.

--

Soft laughter floated down the otherwise silent corridor and Hatori drifted towards it.

Because, oddly enough, one of those gleeful voices sounded like it belonged to Yuki.

Though it shouldn't have.

To Hatori's knowledge, Yuki hadn't laughed—well—_ever_. Actually, taking that into consideration, Hatori wasn't even sure how he knew that it was Yuki's laugh after all—the normalcy of the sound made him wonder if this was just a mistake. If anything, the doctor had always thought, Yuki's laugh would be darker, carrying the weight of—something.

Ah… He was too tired to think of the words.

But upon following that laughter and the hushed conversation that came after it, Hatori found himself in the doorway of room 636. And there was Yuki, situated in his chair beside Honda Tohru's bed, reaching for a square slip of paper from the pile on her bedside table.

Hatori gave a silent sigh.

As he watched—_studied—_Yuki while he folded his clumsy cranes, Hatori was struck once more by a thought that had occurred to him in passing so many times over the past year.

What was Yuki doing here, stuck in a hospital, when he had his entire future ahead of him? Was fate really so unfair as to deprive a boy—_young man_, Hatori reminded himself, because Yuki was 16 now—of time that could be spent in so many more productive ways? He could have been in school studying to be an engineer, a company president, a lawyer, a _doctor_… Yuki, the youngest and cleverest of their particular generation, who had had everything he wanted and who could have _been_ anything he wanted—confined to a hospital for a year that could have been spent in a thousand better ways.

_And what of her?_ Hatori wondered as Honda Tohru let out a soft peal of laughter.

"What's wrong—is something wrong, doctor?" came the half-panicked voice from behind Hatori.

Hatori straightened quickly in surprise, pulling himself together, and turned to face the one who had spoken.

The voice belonged to a tall woman, obviously one of those ex-Yanki. Her hair was a bleached blonde—not her natural color, judging by her darker roots—and her eyes were a mottled light brown color. She dressed like a soldier, in army drabs and combat boots, down to the gun (_Gun! How did she smuggle that past security?_) at her waist.

"Uo-chan! You're back!" came Tohru's cry from within the room, and the woman immediately brushed past him, darting over to the sick girl to enfold her in a tight hug.

"Damn right I'm back," the woman—Uo-chan?—murmured into the patient's hair. "I came straight from the airstrip. Couldn't wait to come see you again. Saki said she understood."

The girls finally disentangled from each other, smiling widely. Hatori wondered if those were really tears welling up in Honda-san's eyes, or if it was just a trick of the light.

"How are you feeling? How's the hospital? They treating you right here?"

"Yes, of course!"

"And _who_ is _this_?" Uo smirked suggestively at Yuki, though her eyes were suspicious and on guard.

"Ah! I'm sorry. Sohma-kun, this is Uotani Arisa, one of my best friends. We went to school together in Tokyo. She was my senpai. Uo-chan, this is Sohma Yuki. He's in room next door, 634."

"_Hajimemashite._ Pleased to meet you," Yuki said quietly, his fingers pausing—somewhat reluctantly, Hatori noted—in the act of making a crease.

"_Hajimemashite,_" Hatsumi repeated, dipping her head, before she turned back to her friend. "So. Boyfriend in the Tokyo Virus Ward, eh? You're growing up so _fast_, Tohru! It makes me wanna cry…"

"Eeh! Who—Oh!—Sohma-kun?" Tohru's eyes widened and she flushed. Hatori looked on interestedly. Was _this_ why they were spending so much time together, then…? That was a new development.

"No, no! It's not like that! I mean—No offense to you, Sohma-kun—"

"Yuki," the boy interjected, a flash of disappointment sliding on and off his face in a matter of seconds.

Hm. A _very_ interesting new development.

"Right! I keep forgetting! Yuki-kun! Ah—that is—"

Arisa patted her friend on the head, then, and smiled at the flustered girl.

"I get it."

Honda-san smiled back and the room was silent as the two kept grinning at each other.

Yuki broke the silence.

"Hatori, was there something you wanted?"

Hatori's gaze shifted to meet Yuki's icy one and, in turn, two more pairs of eyes shifted to him. Honda-san's eyes widened and brightened.

"Sohma-sensei! I didn't realize that you were there!" she exclaimed. "This is my friend, Uotani Arisa. Uo-chan, this is Sohma Hatori. He's Yuki-kun's cousin."

"_Hajimemashite,_" Arisa said, dipping her head.

"The pleasure is mine," was Hatori's response.

There was another short silence that seemed to last forever in Hatori's somewhat distorted reality, but which only lasted a few heartbeats in everyone else's. Then, abruptly:

"I apologize. I was going to visit Yuki, but when he wasn't in his room, I went searching for him. I suppose I'll just leave, then."

"Oh! No! Ah—That is, don't feel obligated to leave, Sohma-sensei—"

"You can call him Hatori. It's less confusing," Yuki interjected. The doctor nodded his assent.

"Hatori-san! That is, it would be nice if you could stay—Oh! Unless you don't want to! Or if you _have _to leave, in which case you really shouldn't feel obligated to stay, so—"

"That's all right," Hatori told her quickly, cutting her off in mid-ramble. "Maybe another day."

And then, perhaps out of impulse, he smiled. Honda-san smiled back brightly.

Hatsumi and Yuki merely stared.

--

"Your cousin's pretty handsome when he smiles," Uo-chan noted later. Yuki grimaced. Tohru blinked.

"Hatori doesn't smile."

"What are you talking about, pretty boy? He just did."

Yuki seemed much more than a little irritated at the new nickname, but he continued to be civil towards Tohru's friend.

"I know that. But I meant that I haven't seen him smile since… Well. Since before we came to New Tokyo. Since before the war, actually."

"Really, Yuki-kun? I wonder why. It must be kind of lonely not to be able to smile very often…"

Yuki nodded slowly, creasing a fold as he did so.

"But don't concern yourself with it, Honda-san. Hatori is just… That's just who he is. He won't change. He's just like he was before."

And Yuki continued to fold his crane. Tohru frowned a little. Neither patient noticed the contemplative look that crossed Hatsumi's face.

--

Hatori took off his glasses and squeezed the bridge of his nose, trying to push back the throbbing headache.

"Go home, Shigure," he gritted out, tone blank and civil.

"But Haa-san!" the other man whined as he trailed his older cousin. "It's so _boring _at home!"

"Shigure. You're single, unemployed, and live in a monstrously large house. Of course you're bored," the doctor snapped.

"But _Haa-san!_"

"Get a _job_ already. Don't you need more than Akito's allowance to live in New Tokyo? He can't be wiring you _that_ much yen can he…?"

But this time, Shigure didn't whine, only pretended not to hear, instead studying the nameplates on the doors with feigned interest. His cousin sighed and dropped the subject.

"Visit Yuki, then. I'm sure he and Honda-san could cope with your presence for another half hour."

"I _have_! I think Yuki-kun is mad at me, Haa-san. You really should tell him to calm down or put him on sedatives or _something_. He tried to hit me!"

Hatori gave another long-suffering sigh, pressing a finger to his throbbing temple and saying something he never thought he would say.

"Then go seduce one of the nurses."

Shigure gasped in mock astonishment.

"Really, Haa-san! Why must you think so _ill_ of me?"

_Why indeed_.

"I don't seduce anyone! I _flirt_!"

"Shigure… Go. Just for another half an hour. I have work to do and you get squeamish around blood."

"I do _not!_" Shigure protested indignantly, obviously offended.

_That's right_, Hatori's suddenly (was it 'suddenly'?) sluggish mind recalled. _Ayame's the one who can't stand blood_.

"_Fidgety_ around it, perhaps, but not nearly _squeamish_—"

"I get the point, Shigure," Hatori muttered, and blinked down at the chart in his hands as that pounding in his head increased twofold. Something was rushing around in his ears and his very _brain_, but though it was uncomfortable, he couldn't—couldn't _pinpoint_ it… exactly…

"—that time with that girl in high school who—Whoa!" Shigure leaned forward, catching his cousin not-so-neatly even as the force of it knocked the breath out of him. The chart and clipboard clattered to the floor.

Shigure blinked down at the man in his arms for a few seconds before it registered that—_Oh, mother fu_—his cousin _the doctor _had fainted.

"You _must_ be kidding me, Haa-san," he groaned.

--

_Wreckage and destruction lay before him, stretching as far as the eye could see. _

_Hatori stared out across the field, horrified by the sight but mesmerized by the steady _dripdripdripdripdrip_ of blood onto the knuckles of his hand. A disembodied scream rang out above the whirring helicopters and the thundering planes. Then—a shot, a silence, and a strangled sob. As if in response, a round of gunfire sounded in the distance, and a helicopter went spiraling down. _

_The ground shook. _

_Hatori stilled then started, his good eye catching sight of something… a familiar head of hair, just a few meters away. His throat was so dry—it felt like he hadn't had water in days—but still he called out to her, called her name, his voice cracked but somehow strong, because he knew—he _knew_—that things had to be right. _

_So why did something feel wrong—wrong in his head, in his eye, in his heart. _

_"Ka—!" _

--

Light burned an imprint into the inside of Hatori's eyelids and he opened them, only to snap them shut again. A slow, steady pounding beat a pattern into his brain, and the doctor let out a low groan.

"Awake, I see," came Shigure's ever-so-pleasant voice, drifting from somewhere beside Hatori.

Slowly, he reopened his eyes and took in his surroundings.

The source of light was, in fact, the setting sun, and Shigure was, in fact, sitting beside him. That in itself was strangely reassuring.

Oh, yes, strange, indeed.

Considering this was _Shigure_.

And they were in a car.

In _Hatori's_ car.

"What did I _drink_?" he wondered aloud. Only something _strong_ would have ever possessed him to give up the keys to the car he'd spent an ungodly amount of yen on. And for him to give up those keys to _Shigure_ of all people, it must have been something of hallucinogen level.

"Oh, a little of this and that," was his cousin's blithe reply. "You aren't a very good doctor, are you, Haa-san?"

"Competent enough," he shot back, somewhat miffed at the other man's speculation. He tried to push back the banging of the hangover headache.

"Not really. Otherwise, you would be at work and not just recovering from a nice, long fainting spell. Impressive, I must say. When you do things, you do them right, ne, Haa-san?"

_Oh, that's right._

"You look like you haven't slept in days, and from what I can gather, you haven't had very many good meals lately, have you? Didn't even offer me breakfast last week. Or maybe that's just your inherent lack of hospitality…"

"I've had a lot to deal with, Shigure," Hatori warned the other man. "Yourself, namely. Yuki, Ak—"

"You don't get it."

"_What_ don't I get, Shigure? And—tell me—why are you here in New Tokyo?" Hatori bit out, patience deserting him. "Some new plot of Akito's to bring all of us home again?"

"No—Because I _knew_ that this would happen, even if you thought you'd be perfectly fine. Because I care about what happens to you, Haa-san."

Hatori's already-frayed nerves and temper were shot to nothing in that instant.

"That's bullshit, Shigure. You've never visited me or Yuki here before—you're not nearly that selfless. You could at the very least tell me the truth. What does the head of our family want?"

The other man was silent for a few heartbeats, feeling the sting of Hatori's words. Then he shook his head.

"You really don't remember, do you?"

"Shigu—"

But Shigure leaned forward, a strangely cruel smile crossing his lips even as he brushed away Hatori's bangs and pressed cool fingertips ever-so-lightly under the lens of the glasses, onto his cousin's flinching eyelid, tracing faint scars that crossed the skin.

"I never thought you would forget," he whispered, "about your failure to protect the one you loved, once upon a time."

And Hatori remembered.

--

_Notes_

_By fluorescentpinkfairies_

Shigure was kind of weird towards the end, wasn't he? It's more of the manga depiction of him rather than the anime, I guess. Meaning that it's the Shigure who's only out for himself and the one with the unknown motives for hurting/using the people around him. He's the one that I love playing around with.

And, yes. This is pretty much a cliffhanger. Unless, of course, you already know what's going to happen, in which case we're being too predictable… But _ooh!_ There are so many hints in this chapter and just a little bit of irony, too… I _do_ so love plot!

Sorry that it's been over two months since we've updated. It's been kind of hard lately – school has sucked up our lives. Or at least that's been the case with _my_ life. I almost flunked math last marking period, mainly because I'm slower than I should be at solving fractional equations. RIP has to work on Spanish and Japanese and Chem, though, so I guess I'm better off than she is… How about you guys? How's it going for you?

The link to the reviewer responses is on our profile – we'd suggest reading them first before you review (IF you review – and please do!). Thanks for reading!

--

_4/15/06  
_Revised and so on and so forth. Thank you!


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